Newton's Third Law
by r4ven3
Summary: Harry, in his confusion about where he stands with Ruth, decides to engage the wisdom of Sir Isaac Newton, given that his own wisdom seems not to be working for him. Set directly after the end of 5.04. A (not terribly deep) story in 5 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

His arm is still warm from where she'd grasped him through his coat. She has already left his office, off to do what she does in her own time, whatever that is. There was the telling off given him by Ros – mostly deserved, as he sees it – and then the comfort offered by Ruth. Harry considers it reasonable for him to be feeling he's been riding a roller coaster these past few weeks. The highs are always followed closely by a low of equal magnitude. Wasn't it Newton who theorised that every action is followed by an equal and opposite reaction? He knows that when Newton created his third law of motion, he was talking about bodies in motion, and not the ups and downs of people's private lives, but the principle seems the same, regardless. He is sure that Sir Isaac, were he still alive, would forgive him just this once his creative indulgence. His personal life – the one which takes place inside his head, and where Ruth features prominently – is a series of attractions and equal and opposite repulsions, and he is exhausted from waiting to see how it is – and why - Ruth will reject him next.

So when Ruth once again slides open the door to his office, and stands there, her hand on the door, her body still partially hidden by the door, he could never have expected her to have uttered the words, "Harry, would you like to go for a drink?"

He stares at her for a while, trying to find another meaning to those nine words. She can't possibly mean it as it sounds. Can she?

He'd asked her to dinner, and despite him being sure she'd say no, she said yes.

They went to dinner, and they had a lovely time. He'd enjoyed her company immensely, and he was sure she'd enjoyed being with him. When he'd walked her to her front door, he'd reached down to kiss her cheek, and at the last minute, she'd turned her head towards him, and captured his lips in hers. It was a brief kiss, and they had both been a little embarrassed, but it had been delightful, her lips soft and warm and giving on his, and when he'd asked, she'd assured him she'd consider going to dinner with him again.

The following day she'd declared another dinner with him would be out of the question – their work colleagues were gossiping about them - and so as suddenly as his heart had begun to open, it had been dashed, and Ruth had ground her heel into the shattered remnants of his hopes and dreams for them both.

Then there was the conference at Havensworth. They'd worked closely – and successfully – and he'd felt her opening up to him – to the idea of them. So that when she'd walked away from him as he'd approached her in the hotel corridor late at night, he'd felt the pendulum swinging in the opposite direction, as she opened the door to her room, and bid him a curt goodnight. He'd sighed heavily as his unexpressed desire for her left him feeling exhausted and defeated.

So, does this invitation to have a drink with her represent another action, a movement by her towards him? If so, it will be followed closely by an equal and opposite movement away from him, and he doesn't think his heart could take more rejection from her. Despite his decision to turn her down, to feign being busy, he hears his own words as if spoken by another.

"I'd love to, Ruth," are the words which tumble from his mouth, as he smiles shyly at her, and Ruth takes a step into his office, a small smile on her face, as she looks up at him through her eyelashes. There isn't a man alive who could say no to her when she looks at him in that way.

* * *

They walk together, side by side, through the London evening. Harry is walking on air, and he wonders would she mind were he to hold her hand. He resists the urge to touch her, not wanting to ruin the evening before it has begun.

Together they decide that The George would not be the most private of venues, given the rest of the team had loudly announced that they were meeting there for a post-Havensworth piss-up. Ros would no doubt be giving the night at The George a miss. Harry had declined, stating he was too busy, and Ruth had claimed she needed to get home to feed her cats.

They needed to go somewhere where they'd not be recognised, where no-one would be watching their every move. Harry has decided on Dieter's. The name of the pub is something with Oak in it, but he can never remember what, although he knows it's not The Royal Oak. Dieter Schmid is the manager, and a friendly, generous man. Harry has often visited Dieter's when his whole life has been collapsing around him. Hopefully, tonight will be different. Hopefully, tonight will be the beginning of Dieter's having happy memories for him.

"This is nice," Ruth comments, as he leads her to a booth at the back of the room. The bar area is crowded and busy, but further into the room the lighting is dimmer, and there are fewer people. "It's rather intimate," she adds.

Harry lifts his eyes to meet hers, and sees the flush appear at her throat, moving up to her cheeks. He helps her off with her coat, and then removes his own, laying them across the bench next to him.

"White wine?" he asks her, and she nods.

He returns to the table with a whiskey for himself, and a white wine for Ruth, and a complimentary bowl of pork scratchings.

"It was me who asked you for a drink, Harry. I should at least have bought the first one."

He smiles at her, noting her slight discomfort at this small breach in social protocol. "I'll let you get the next one, Ruth. If that's what you want."

He lifts his glass to her in a salute, and then takes a sip, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I don't mind really," she says, her words not flowing as easily as she would like. "It's just that …... I was the one who asked you for a drink, so …..."

"I know what you mean, Ruth." Harry takes a substantial sip before he speaks again. "Why did you ask me for a drink? It's just that …... at Havensworth …... you were not exactly …..."

He regrets the words as soon as they are spoken. He, who is used to measuring every word, every syllable before he speaks, has just blurted out the question to which he really wants an answer, and in so doing, may have blown the whole evening.

"That was work, Harry," she says, looking at the wine in her glass, "and to have continued from …... where we were that night …... well -" She lifts her eyes to his, and he sees that she's not annoyed, or angry, or even embarrassed. She seems interested in him. Her eyes are flirting with his. "I didn't want the others to know about …... this …... us …... so I thought it best …..."

"You needed to have said that at the time, Ruth." He keeps his voice low, intimate.

"You didn't know that's why I …...?"

"No. I didn't. I took your actions as …..."

"The same as when I turned down your second dinner invitation."

"Yes." The word is barely more than a whisper.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

He waits, not even able to take another sip of his drink, for fear this moment in time will be lost forever.

"I …..." Ruth begins, and then she drops her eyes, and fiddles with the stem of the wine glass.

"What, Ruth? Tell me. I need to know."

Ruth grasps the stem of her wine glass with the fingers of both hands. Harry moves his hand across the table, and is about to reach her fingers with his own when they hear a voice from behind them.

"Harry! I thought it was you. And you've brought a friend this time. Good, good."

Annoyed, Harry looks up into the grey eyes of Dieter Schmid, the pub's manager. Never has Dieter's timing been worse.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry introduces Ruth to Dieter, who takes her hand and kisses it. Harry watches as Dieter smarms it up with Ruth. He knows he has no reason for jealousy, but he is annoyed all the same. He and Ruth had been having a private conversation. They had been – at last – getting somewhere. Ruth had been on the cusp of explaining why she'd run from him that night in the Havensworth hotel, and bloody Dieter had walked in and trodden all over the moment.

"Where have you been keeping this beautiful woman, Harry?" And then he turns away from Ruth, having let go of her hand. "I haven't ever seen you with a woman. I'd been wondering if you were …... batting for the other team."

Harry smiles slightly, but for once, he does not appreciate the company of the man, and nor does he like his attempt at humour …... especially not in front of Ruth. He wants him to leave he and Ruth alone. He glares at the pub's owner, hoping his message is clear.

"I'll leave you two alone now. I have things to do, people to talk to, deals to make." And as quickly as he'd arrived, Dieter is gone.

Harry is sad that the moment between he and Ruth is also gone – perhaps forever. He sighs heavily, gazing moodily into his drink. "I'm sorry about that, Ruth," he says after a few moments. "He was ….. crude."

"Don't be angry with him, Harry. He meant well." Ruth's eyes drop before she speaks again. "And I can't imagine why anyone would think you bat for the other team."

And no sooner has she spoken than a bar attendant appears at Harry's elbow with a wine cooler filled with ice, a bottle of champagne, and two tall champagne glasses. "Compliments of Mr Schmid," he says, his face close to Harry's ear. "He asks that you forgive his intrusion."

The bar attendant opens the champagne by slowly easing the cork out of the bottle, his hand covering the cork to ensure that it doesn't pop. Harry supposes that has something to do with Health and Safety. _Doesn't everything?_ he thinks, as the attendant fills the glasses, and then quickly leaves, but not before tucking the champagne bottle amongst the ice in the ice bucket.

Harry has been mute during this, surprised at the see-sawing of the events of the night so far. He looks across at Ruth to see a wide smile on her face.

"I love champagne," Ruth says, lifting her glass towards Harry.

He follows her by lifting his own glass, and tipping it slightly towards her. "Veuve Clicquot, too. Here's to us," he says, touching her glass gently with his own."

"To us," Ruth replies, before drawing her glass towards her and taking a sip.

Harry watches her as she screws up her nose at the bubbles, and then utters a `Mmm' of appreciation after she swallows. He has a moment of envying the champage which slides down her throat, and then squirms uncomfortably in his seat, knowing that while in Ruth's company, he can't be thinking like that. He takes a small sip of the champagne, and then gently places the glass back on the table, still formulating what he should say to her.

"Ruth," he begins, and as he looks up into her eyes, he catches a look of such abandon – perhaps lust - in her own eyes that he is momentarily flummoxed. He quickly looks down, trying to rein in his baser feelings. It is far too early in the evening for lustful thoughts, even if by some miracle, Ruth is having them also. "Ruth," he begins again, "we were talking about -"

"That night at Havensworth, when I refused you."

"Well …... maybe that's a little harsh, Ruth."

"No, it's the truth. I could see you wanted …... and I thought …... I made a decision to not …... because we were at work, Harry."

Harry takes another mouthful of champagne. He's not normally a champagne drinker, but tonight is special – he hopes – and he wants to be seen to be making an effort for Ruth.

"I know what you're saying, Ruth. I understand that. I do. It's just that the incident in the hotel came close on the heels of you turning down my invitation to dinner …... the second invitation."

"And you've put the two events together, and now they spell …... what?"

Harry sighs heavily, wishing Ruth would work it out without his help. He's not used to sharing his private thoughts and feelings with anyone, and especially not a woman to whom he is so attracted. Attracted? _Come on, Harry, you're head over heels with this woman. Admit it._

"I thought," he begins slowly, turning his champagne glass around in circles on the table top. "I thought you didn't want to see me any more. Outside work, that is, because it'd be rather difficult for you to not see me at all."

Ruth copies his actions, twirling her own glass around. Harry notices her glass is empty, and so he tops up both their glasses. _If all else fails_, he surmises, _we may as well get drunk together._

Ruth waits until her glass is almost full before she takes another sip of the champagne, and then places her glass carefully on the table.

"I wasn't thinking too far ahead when I turned down your second dinner invitation. I did want to see you again. Do. It's just that having so much scrutiny and gossip unsettled me. I'm trying to put it aside, but it's not easy."

"And Havensworth was work, and we cannot be seen to be fraternising at work."

"Something like that, yes."

Harry is watching her closely, as her eyes flick up, and blue eyes momentarily meet hazel. He smiles at her, hoping he can win her over with charm. It used to work for him …... many, many years ago, when he had more hair.

"It's just that," he continues, "you seemed annoyed by me when we met in the corridor at Havensworth. All I was after was a drink, a talk to wind down at the end of the first day there -"

"Bullshit, Harry. You were after so much more than that. Admit it."

_Christ – why can't I remember that I can't lie to this woman? She can see through all the games, the angles, the little white lies._ He pulls his pursed lips sideways in a gesture of annoyance.

"And you weren't?"

When he looks up at Ruth, she is sat back against the cushioned back of the bench. Her eyes are wide with shock, and he can see the sheen of tears.

"Ruth," he begins, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was -"

"It was confrontational and rude, Harry."

"It's just that …..."

"It's just that what?" Ruth's voice is uncharacteristically cold. The warmth, the flirtatious manner are gone. She looks hurt and angry.

He sighs heavily as he pushes his glass out of reach and sits back to face her. He is suddenly as angry as she …... and sad, too. He may as well be truthful, if this is to be the last time they spend together away from work. This time, he chooses his words carefully.

"I'll admit to you that I was aroused by your presence, and that I wanted to take you to my room …... for a drink, and perhaps more, but I wasn't looking for anything sordid, Ruth. I thought maybe we could kiss a bit, and cuddle. What I meant was that I noticed you looking at me with the same …... interest …... as I know I was looking at you."

"So you think you could just drag me off to your room for a bit of slap and tickle, and I'd be fine with that. Is that what you were thinking?"

"Ruth – _Jesus_ – I wasn't planning to drag you off. I saw you looking at me with the same …... the same way I knew I was looking at you. It's not a crime to be attracted to someone, you know. It's normal human behaviour – _normal_, Ruth. And I also seem to remember that kissing is rather nice."

Suddenly, Ruth turns in her seat, gathers her bag and her coat, and stands. Harry stands too, and places himself between her and the door. He reaches as if to touch her arm.

"Don't touch me, Harry. I'm not that sort of woman. There are plenty of single women at the bar. You might be better off with one of them. Now, stand aside."

He steps aside to let her pass. He knows better than to try to reason with her when she's like this. "Ruth," he pleads, "at least let me see you home."

Ruth is a yard past him when she turns and gazes at him with cold eyes.

"I'd rather Jack the Ripper saw me home. Goodnight, Harry. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

And then she's gone. He stands helplessly as she strides to the door, and then through it. He wants to follow her, but he knows how stubborn she can be.

Harry sits back down, feeling the most miserable as he's felt in years. He may as well polish off the champagne, at least.

Newton has spoken again. Harry knew he would.


	3. Chapter 3

The following days are busy, and both Harry and Ruth are relieved about that. They only interact when necessary, and they are each polite, but distant towards the other. The aftermath of Havensworth is dealt with, and by the fifth day after the summit on Africa ended, Ruth is concentrating once more on intel and email traffic in and out of Britain.

Harry has been busy, both on and off the Grid, and for that he's been thankful. There have been reports which he's had to submit, and meetings with JIC members. A gathering as volatile, and with as much going on as the Havensworth summit, requires not only forward planning, but a thorough chewing over of the bones after the event. When he goes home at night, it is to sleep. He's had little time to even think of Ruth.

By five days after Havensworth, and five days after he and Ruth had gone for a drink, Harry is free to think once more about their aborted night out. He's still upset, and he's still angry with himself, as well as with her. He doesn't want to have to tread gently around Ruth for fear she'll take something too personally, or get the wrong end of the stick. They're adults, and he wants to have an adult relationship with her. That includes kissing, touching and holding one another, and yes, it also includes sex. What is so wrong with wanting to have sex with her? Why is she so confronted by that? And so angry with him?

As much as he'd like to simply forget about Ruth, and move on, he can't. She's crawled under his skin and into his heart, and he's in love with her, and he also suspects that she feels the same way, and is fighting this feeling.

By lunchtime on the sixth day after Havensworth ended, he decides that the best strategy for him – keeping in mind Newton's third law of motion – is to pull away from her. He's barely set eyes on her since their night at Dieter's, and now he's back in his office, he will ignore her, unless he has no option other than to deal with her. He will not seek her out, or check on her progress, like he used to. He will not find an excuse to look at her through the window of his office, or to pass close by her desk on his way to somewhere else. He will not go to the roof balcony hoping she'll follow him there. If, by some strange chance, Newton's Third Law can apply to affairs of the heart, then perhaps keeping his distance from her will create in her a need to move closer to him.

Harry finds it is easier than he'd thought it would be to operate as section head without looking at Ruth at least once every minute of the day. It doesn't mean that he doesn't think of her, because when he's on the Grid, and he has a moment to himself, he thinks of little else. Two days pass in this way, and he only speaks with Ruth when she delivers her reports to his office, and he makes a point of not giving her eye contact. Because their eyes are not meeting, he has no idea how she is taking his attitude towards her. And then, in late afternoon, Jo Portman visits him in his office.

"Harry," she says, standing quite close to the side of the desk, and speaking quietly, "what's up between you and Ruth?"

He looks up from the folder in front of him, and glares at her with what he hopes is a confronting look. "Nothing is up, Joanna."

"It's just that – and I know this is none of my business -"

"You're right, it's not."

"- but you and Ruth are not talking to one another, and you're both so miserable. Can't you just …..?"

Harry again lifts his eyes, and glares at the young woman, hoping to scare her off, but Jo is made of tougher stuff than that.

"Can't you just talk to one another? I know that we've interfered with you and she before, but we just want you both to be happy."

"We _are_ happy," he snaps, in a voice which he knows conveys his own deep unhappiness.

"Talk to her," Jo says, before she turns and leaves.

As the door slides closed, he sighs heavily. The situation must be bad for everyone else to have noticed. He stands, grabs his coat and his phone, powers down his computer, and leaves the office. He needs to take a walk along the embankment. He needs to clear his head.

He stands on the bridge and stares out at the water, grey and dull, a reflection of his own mood. Despite it being the second day of August, the air is cold enough for him to have to wear his coat and gloves. He wants to clear his head of thoughts of Ruth, but it appears she is stuck there. For a man whose days are full and busy, his nights are empty and lonely. If he's being honest with himself, he stays at work long past the time when he should be going home because there's so little for him to be going home to. The bulk of his private life takes place inside his head, and even there, he misses Ruth. He is lonely and sad, and he believes she is lonely and sad also, so why can't they work that out between the two of them? How is it that the promise that sat between them as they had dinner together only nineteen days earlier has already been lost?

Harry refuses to believe that this promise of something more has been lost. He prefers to believe that they are the ones who are lost, and the promise of what they can be together is still there, waiting for them to find it.

He begins walking, and before he knows it he has walked for an hour, and is back on the embankment. It is still light, but it is almost six o'clock, and the evening traffic is noisy to the point of cacophony. He decides to head back to the Grid, and try talking to Ruth. What can be the harm?

* * *

As he steps out of the pods, the first thing he notices is that Ruth is not at her desk, and her computer has been turned off. He looks around the Grid, and his eyes meet Jo's, as she walks towards her desk with a fresh cup of coffee in her hand.

"Would you like a coffee, Harry?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "Has Ruth gone home?"

"Yes. She left around an hour ago, but she left some files on your desk, and she asked me to tell you to be sure you look at them before you go home."

He nods and turns towards his office. She could have rung him, or texted him to tell him that. So this is what they have become – passing messages to one another through a third party. He sighs heavily as he enters his office to see only two files on his desk.

The top file is very thin, so he sits down and opens that first. Inside it is empty, but for a piece of notepaper. He lifts the notepaper in his fingers, and reads what is written on it - in Ruth's handwriting: _Harry - I'm sorry for what has happened between us. I miss you, and I'd like us to get together so we can talk. Ring me or text me when you read this, even if it's only to tell me to get lost. Ruth._

He reads it again. And again. By the fourth read-through, he can still see no ulterior motive, no hidden meaning beneath the words. It appears that like him, Ruth wants to heal the rift between them.

He quickly glances through the other folder, and on top of her report, she has left another note which reads: _Look in the other folder first._ He smiles, realising how badly she must want to talk to him. He browses her report, all the while trying to find reasons why he shouldn't contact her. He wants to so badly, but he doesn't want a repeat of what happened at Dieter's. He couldn't bear it were she to walk away from him again.

He decides to test the waters with a text message: _I'd like to meet you to talk. We have a lot to talk about. One condition though – you have to promise me you'll not get up and leave._

Within a minute, his phone rings, and he knows it is Ruth.

"Hello," he says carefully, noncommittally.

"Harry, it's me."

"I know." He feels his voice soften at the sound of her voice.

"I'd planned to ask you to come to dinner with me at a Chinese restaurant near my place, but they're booked out tonight with a birthday banquet …... but they'll do take-away, and we can eat it at my place. The dinner's on me."

"And you won't get mad at me and run off if I say something you don't like?"

"I can't promise to not get mad at you. You can be really infuriating. But I'll promise to not run away. It might be difficult if I'm already in my own home."

Harry finds himself chuckling softly into the phone. He could sit with the phone at his ear, listening to her voice for the rest of the evening, but what she is offering is even better.

"I trust I have time to go home first to shower and change?"

"If you want to. It's only just gone six-twenty, after all."

"Give me an hour or so. I'll pick up wine on the way."


	4. Chapter 4

Harry feels incredibly nervous. He'd stood in front of the open doors of his wardrobe, wearing nothing but his trunks, trying to decide what to wear. He has no idea what Ruth would like to see him in, so he decides on chinos, a sky blue V-necked jumper, and a lightweight jacket. He hopes she'll approve of the way he looks, and that she won't guess how much trouble he'd gone to. He'd shaved, shampooed his hair, and used a touch of his usual cologne.

He stopped at an off license near Ruth's house, and spent precious minutes deciding what kind of wine to buy. In the end he chooses a New Zealand brand – Spy Valley Chardonnay. He hopes two bottles will be enough. They have work tomorrow, after all.

Ruth opens the door to him, and stands aside to let him inside. She is dressed in blue jeans and a fitting red jumper with a scooped neck. He glances quickly at the top of her cleavage, something he never sees when she's wearing work clothes. Her hair is curly around the ends, like she's just stepped from the shower, and she smells beautiful – like a summer garden. He wishes he could scoop her up in his arms, and carry her upstairs, and to hell with talking.

"You look nice," she says self-consciously. "You're all dressed up."

"You look lovely, Ruth," he replies. _You are lovely_, he thinks. The house is warm, so he removes his jacket, and Ruth indicates a coat rack just inside the door where he can hang it.

Harry had deliberately chosen to wear a jumper which clings to his torso, and one glance at Ruth shows him that she appreciates his choice. He notices how her eyes stray to his throat and stay there, and then she quickly looks away when she sees that he has noticed her interest in his body. He smiles at her before she turns and shows him to her living room.

"I can order our food now if you like."

"That would be good," Harry replies, "and I'll open one of these," he adds, holding up one of the bottles of wine.

* * *

They are sitting side by side on the sofa in Ruth's sitting room, each with a glass of wine in their hands. They talk about work, because it is a safe subject, and also because they have barely exchanged more than a few sentences in the eight days since the evening at Dieter's. Harry tells her about his meetings with several JIC members, all of whom had initially been disturbed by the events at Havensworth, and Ruth talks about her intel report, as much for something to say as a need to share the information with Harry. He'll be reading her report in the morning, so she has no need to tell him anything. It's just that they each have missed talking to the other about work, and so they have a week's worth of catching up to do.

Harry notices how Ruth uses her hands when she speaks. He is fascinated by their movement. They are delicate hands, but seem powerful when she uses them to illustrate a point. He only takes his eyes from her hands in order to watch her mouth, and then he wonders how it would feel to kiss that mouth – not a quick peck, like after they'd been to dinner, but a proper, full-on snog.

He notices her watching his hands as he speaks, and then her eyes wander to his neck and throat, and eventually to his mouth. At least this time they are both on the same page.

* * *

It is only after they have eaten their Chinese dinner, and are again sitting together on the sofa with their second bottle of wine that Ruth mentions the events of a week ago.

"I suppose I should explain what happened at Dieter's …... what was going on with me."

"I'd like to know, Ruth. I know that you thought me rude."

"In retrospect, I believe you were telling the truth, Harry."

"You're talking about that night at Havensworth?"

"Yes. When we were at Dieter's, the thing you said which angered me the most was when you said that I was also after more than a drink and a talk. You're right about that, and that's what made me so angry. I wanted to …... blame you alone for desiring me. I wanted you to be the predatory man, while I was the innocent victim."

"You were never that, Ruth."

"I know." She looks down at the glass of wine in her hands, and lightly swirls the liquid around in the glass.

"I shouldn't have said …... what I said to you. It was …..." He hesitates.

"Confrontational."

"Yes. It was …... even though it seems it was also the truth."

"I've been wondering ever since that night when I ran from you -"

"Which night is that, Ruth? There were two."

"At Dieter's. I was so angry, and I wanted to blame you, but I was an equal participant in what happened."

"Yes, you were. Can we agree on a truce? I couldn't stand another week like the last has been. It's been …..."

"Truly awful," Ruth finishes his sentence for him.

"Yes." Harry is watching her, hoping for some sign that they can move a little closer to one another. When no such sign comes from her, he decides it is time he lay himself open a little. "Ruth ….." he begins warily, his eyes on the one glowing bar of the gas fire.

"Yes?"

"I would really like it if we could be more than just colleagues. I know that I want more than friendship from you, and that I have feelings for you. I also believe you feel similarly."

He turns to look at her, but her eyes are focused on her wine glass. He waits for a couple of minutes until the silence becomes uncomfortable. He is just about to qualify his statement when Ruth speaks, her voice a monotone.

"I've been waiting so long for you to say those words, Harry. You have …... no idea how difficult it is to try to read your intent."

"And here I've been, thinking that I wear my heart on my sleeve."

"I'd never accuse you of that, Harry. You're very closed off, especially at work, and work is where we see one another most."

"I can't go around declaring my feelings for you at work. It's not the place for it."

"I know. I've run that last conversation we had at Dieter's through my mind over and over, and all I could see was you being rude to me. Now you say you have …... feelings for me, then it takes on a different hue."

"I still don't know how you feel about what I've said. You've managed to avoid saying anything about it." Harry turns towards Ruth, and watches her struggle with her answer. He wishes she'd look at him. He wishes that so much that he reaches out and with his finger under her chin, he carefully turns her face so that she looks at him. "Tell me, Ruth. Tell me what you think of what I said about having feelings for you."

He watches her watching him, her eyes wide. He is reminded of a small animal caught in a trap, and immediately regrets putting her on the spot in this way. Ruth then does something which has his body vibrating with emotion. She lifts her hand slowly until she grasps his hand in hers. She takes it from under her chin and drops her lips to it, kissing the skin on the back of his hand, and then his palm. Her lips are soft and warm, and he's sure he feels the tip of her tongue touching his palm, sending shivers through him, ending up in his groin, where he feels a familiar stirring.

With no warning at all, and without saying a word, Ruth then lifts her lips, and takes his hand in both hers, and places it – palm down – on her chest, just above the neckline of her jumper, where she holds it against her skin. He can feel her heart beating as quickly as he's sure his own must be. With difficulty, he lifts his eyes from her chest, and his hazel eyes gaze into her blue pools.

If this is an invitation to kiss her, then he's not about to let it go unanswered. With his hand still against her chest, he leans towards her, and places his lips on hers. The kiss is very gentle and careful – just in case – but after a few moments he feels her lips part beneath his.

This is their first proper kiss. After a short time in which they explore inside one another's mouths, they slide closer together on the sofa, and Harry slides his free arm around Ruth's waist, drawing her closer. He feels both her hands at the back of his neck, and feeling bolder than he has in a long time, he slides the hand she placed on her chest under the fabric of her jumper until his fingers are underneath her bra. As much as he wants to push further, he is also a gentleman, and decides that this will be enough for one night. He can touch the flesh of her breasts, but is not about to push his fingers any further. That will be for another night.

Eventually, the need to take a breath has them pulling out of the kiss so that they look at one another, their eyes glowing.

"That was wonderful," he breathes, taking his hand out from underneath Ruth's jumper.

"You really know how to kiss, Harry."

"Good," he says, not knowing what else he can say about that.

"I've been thinking about something," Ruth says, sitting up, and so no longer leaning against him. "I'd rather like it if you stayed the night with me. In my bed."

For a moment, Harry is unable to speak.

"Ruth …... you've taken me by surprise."

"I don't mean for sex. I don't think we're quite ready for that yet. At least, I'm not, although I suspect you are."

"Are you sure, Ruth?"

"Never surer. I know you didn't bring sleeping things, and I haven't clothes to fit you, but …."

"I can sleep in my underwear. It will cover the bits of me I'd best keep to myself." As soon as he speaks, he wonders whether he has gone too far. He watches Ruth's face, and a slow smile crosses her face.

"It's important your bits are covered," she says, smiling. "I might be tempted were they not."

He smiles back, relaxing into this idea that they sleep together in Ruth's bed.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: M-ish warning ... bedroom shenanigans. This is the final chapter. Thanks for reading and following, and a huge hug to all reviewers. xx  
**_

* * *

Harry has climbed under the duvet, wearing just his trunks, while Ruth is in the bathroom performing her before-bed rituals. He is nervous – very, very nervous. This situation has the potential for bringing them close together, or to blow them apart forever. When she enters the bedroom wearing pink pyjama bottoms and a yellow t-shirt, he thinks she looks even more wonderful than she did in jeans and a jumper. He notices that underneath her t-shirt, her breasts are bra-less, and he wonders how they would feel pressed against his chest. She slides under the duvet, and comes to rest beside him, but not touching. He doesn't know what he should do now, and he doesn't wish to upset her or annoy her. He'd like to touch her, but instead, he holds his breath, and waits for her to show him the way. After all, aren't they just _sleeping_ together tonight? She'd said no sex, and he'll respect that ….. if he must.

"Harry, you're not at all relaxed," she says quietly.

"I know. I don't know what you expect."

"I don't expect you to be all rigid." There is a short silence, as her words sink in, and then they both laugh. "Sorry, bad choice of words," she adds.

"It's just that I am."

"What?"

"Rigid."

"Christ, Harry, you're not. Are you?"

"I'd suggest you check me out for yourself, but that might be …..."

"Too much?"

"Perhaps."

There is another silence, filled only by the sounds of their breathing. Suddenly, Harry turns on his side to face her.

"Ruth …... I know you said there's to be no sex tonight -"

"Did I say that?"

"Yes. You did."

Ruth turns on her side to face him, so that their faces are only inches apart. Ruth has left on a lamp in the corner of the room, and it casts shadows over their faces, but he can still see her eyes, her pupils dilated. It is in her eyes that he sees her mind changing.

"I might have to …... rethink that decision, Harry. Now you're here, and …... I'm here …..."

"You're open to suggestions?"

She nods slowly, and Harry waits, hoping she'll make the first move. When she doesn't, he leans forward and places his lips on hers. Her response is sudden and clear. She leans into him, and her lips part beneath his. He closes his eyes, and feels a low moan coming from his own throat – and maybe hers as well. Her legs tangle with his, just as their tongues meet, and he reaches out and pulls her against him.

"God, Harry," she says into his mouth, as his erection comes in contact with her stomach, and he presses himself against her.

What happens next is almost as unexpected as him being in her bed in the first place. He feels Ruth's hand on him, _inside his trunks_, and she's squeezing him, and then letting him go, squeezing and releasing. "Please touch me," she whispers against his mouth, so he does.

He slides one hand inside her pyjama bottoms, and he's rubbing and rolling her flesh between his fingertips, and then pushing two fingers inside her. Next, she's removed her t-shirt, and while one hand is busy beneath her pyjama pants, his mouth enjoys her breasts – one after the other, and then back again. She comes twice in quick succession, whispering his name. _Is this Ruth_? he thinks. _Is this what she's wanted all along?_

Harry is aware of Ruth's hand inside his trunks, and he's had to exert all the self control he possesses to not follow her into oblivion. Then she takes two hands, and slides his trunks down his legs, and he kicks them off, and with his feet pushes them to the end of the bed. He closes his eyes, and rolls on to his back. What he feels next surprises him even more. Ruth takes him in her mouth, and begins sliding her tongue along the underside of his length, and then flicking it teasingly over his tip. He can only hold back for so long. He utters a strangled sound from the back of his throat as he comes in her mouth. It is the most exquisite release he has ever experienced …... and the most needed.

When he is again aware of his surroundings, he feels Ruth move to his side again, and she covers his mouth with her own, so that he can taste his own ejaculate in her mouth as she meets his tongue with hers. He enjoys the kiss, but his energy is spent, his body like jelly. He lazily lifts his hand, and winds it around her neck.

"Ruth," he says, after she pulls away, "that was amazing."

"But you're exhausted, and need to sleep."

"Yes."

"Next time …... next time, we can do it ... differently."

He smiles and nods, and puts his arms around her, pulling her close to him, preparing to sleep.

* * *

Harry wakes suddenly, and looks around him. He is in bed with Ruth, who is curled against him, her head on his shoulder, one hand resting on his lower abdomen, her fingers curled in his pubic hair. So, it's true, after all. He'd been afraid that he'd dreamt it. After all, ninety percent of his dreams feature Ruth, and most of those are sexual in nature. As his eyes become accustomed to the dark, he relaxes, and he feels the beginnings of sexual arousal. The bedside clock reads 4:47, so he has forty five minutes before he needs to leave to go home and get ready for work.

He turns on his side, very gently easing himself from under Ruth's head, and reaches over to glide his fingers across her bare torso. There is so much they didn't do last night, and he wants to do it all now. His slides the duvet down to Ruth's waist, revealling her bare abdomen and breasts. He kisses his way from her navel to her breasts, and then back down again until he reaches between her legs. As his tongue finds its way inside her, she parts her legs for him, and she feels her hands on his scalp, gently pushing him against her.

He glances up at her, and sees the arousal in her eyes …... as well as something else he'd seen before, but not been sure about. Now he's sure. It's love. Ruth loves him, and she seems to love what he's doing.

"What a way to wake up," she murmurs, before she erupts with her first orgasm for the day.

He moves up the bed to lie beside her, leaning on his elbow and watching her as she comes down. He loves her totally, and can't wait to be inside her. He presses his erection against her side in a not-so-subtle way. When she again opens her eyes, he reaches down and kisses her gently and softly. Harry feels her arms around his shoulders, her hands on his back, as she draws him closer. She pulls away from the kiss, her mouth sucking on the skin of his jaw, then his throat and his neck. _God, what if she leaves marks?_ In that moment, he doesn't care is his whole body is to be covered in bite marks, but he might care when he's sitting in a meeting of the JIC. As her mouth explores his skin, his fingers are busy with her breasts and nipples. Then he feels her fingers on his erection, and he knows he has to be quick before she again brings him to climax.

"Ruth," he says, "I want to be inside you. Are you ready?"

"I'm always ready for you."

He decides in that moment to remember those words, just in case.

He slides into her, and then begins moving against her. He lifts his head to watch her face as he makes love to her. Her eyes are closed, and her neck is arched, and her head back on the pillow. He reaches down and kisses her neck, as with his fingers he pinches her nipple. She climaxes again, but he will not be stopped. He keeps going until again she comes. This time, the sound which she emits is so primal, so earthy, that Harry can hold back no longer. He follows her, letting go, thrusting deeper, until he has nothing left, and he collapses against her.

When he regains a semblance of clear consciousness, he rolls off Ruth, and lies on his back beside her. He breathes out heavily as he says `sorry'.

"Jesus, Harry, for what?"

"For lying on top of you and squashing you."

"It was worth it. That was …... I have no words."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"And you didn't?"

"Oh, I liked it very much," he replies, opening his eyes, and smiling at her. He reaches across to kiss her, and she responds with a lazy kiss. They are both too exhausted, too happy even for kissing.

* * *

Harry is driving Ruth to work, having had to firstly convince her that she should wait for him while he goes home to shower and change for work. She'd wanted to be independent, and to catch the tube.

"It's freezing this morning, Ruth. I'm taking you. No argument."

They talk little on the drive through the morning traffic. Each are consumed by thoughts of how things have changed so much just in the past thirteen hours. When he stops at the lights, Harry reaches out to grasp Ruth's hand, and he squeezes her fingers. Her squeeze back reassures him that they are not in danger of drifting back to the way they'd been before she'd invited him around to share a Chinese meal.

He parks his car in his space in the underground car park, unclips his seat belt, and then leans across to take Ruth's face in his hands.

"The cameras, Harry. We'll be seen."

"No matter. I'll get Malcolm to wipe this bit."

"But then Malcolm will know."

"I think Malcolm already knows. He sees more than he lets on."

And he kisses her. For seven-fifty in the morning, it is a passionate kiss, and Ruth responds.

"It's just that I won't get a chance to do that until after work."

"And what's happening after work?"

"I think it might be my turn to entertain you, and for you to try out my bed."

Ruth leans her head back against the headrest, and gazes at him with open adoration. "I quite like the sound of that."

Suddenly, Harry's mobile phone rings, and he takes it from his inside pocket, and looks at the display. "It's Adam," he says. "He probably wants to know where we are."

"I've made you late, Harry."

"No. I chose everything which happened from the moment I woke up …... and I wouldn't have it any other way. Adam," he says, answering the call. He listens without speaking, says, `right', and then ends the call. He turns to look at Ruth, privately wishing they could drive right back to her place, and stay there all day, just the two of them, away from the world. "Adam has just informed me that the head of security at Cotterdam prison just jumped under a train. Welcome to MI-5."

"Do you want me to look into it, Harry?"

"No. I'll give it to Zaf and Jo. I need you near me. We still have some African tapes to go through."

"Oh …." He can tell that she's disappointed.

"Look at it this way, Ruth. We might be the only two members of senior staff on the Grid today, so …..."

"I can visit you in your office, and ….."

"Check up on me."

Ruth smiles widely, and reaches up to kiss him. The kiss is lingering, and he feels slight movement where he really ought not to. Very reluctantly, he pulls out of the kiss.

"Time to go, Ruth."

"I know. Another day, another -"

"- secret note in a report folder."

* * *

Harry walks straight to Malcolm's desk, and quickly gives him instructions, his voice low so that no-one can overhear.

Malcolm presses a series of keys to open the CCTV program, and quickly accesses the feed from the camera in the south eastern corner of the underground car park. Were it anyone else, he'd not be bothered with what needed wiping, but he is in a position of privilege, and sometimes there are benefits. He rewinds, and scrolls through. _Ahhh, just as I suspected._

Harry's Range Rover pulls up in his own space, and there are two people in the vehicle. Harry leans across to kiss his passenger – not just a kiss, a proper lingering snog. Harry receives a phone call, they talk, and then Harry's passenger leans across to kiss him, another rather long kiss. Harry and his passenger leave the vehicle together, but Harry goes on ahead, after planting a quick kiss on her lips.

Malcolm smiles broadly, and whispers `It's about bloody time,' before he wipes the six and a half minutes of footage.

_Fin_


End file.
